


we'll meet in the spring

by guanlin



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Non AU, Pre-debut, anyway actually fantastic times, i realised that my previous tags made me seem like a dumb idiot so im redoing them, lucas loves jungwoo so much and that boy is pure oblivious, omg why is oblivious derived from the work oblivion?? is it??? are they even linked??, only mild angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 02:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13777860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guanlin/pseuds/guanlin
Summary: His heart falters and Jungwoo is punch drunk on Lucas’ face and his eyes and his smell and the way that he holds him - carefully, tenderly, but not like he’ll break. He could spit a whole love song out of the way he looks at him now, and Jisung was right. Forever really isn’t long enough.alternatively: somewhere between being trainees and idols, lucas and jungwoo find each other and cling on.





	we'll meet in the spring

Summer is slowly melting into Autumn around the time they meet and Jungwoo is becoming more and more quietly defeated as the days go on. He _wants_ this, he wants to debut and he wants to make something of himself but he feels like if he pulls one more all nighter, collapses into his rickety dorm bed at five in the morning only to get up at seven one more time, he might end up being a quitter and going back home with his head ducked. He’s watched plenty of kids give up, scream and cry and break things and leave, the rest of them standing to watch and then heading back to what they were doing beforehand, repeating that one move, that one note, that one character again and again until it’s perfect. He had gone home last week for his day off and had broken down crying as soon as he set eyes on his mother, leaning into her warm embrace and sobbing out an ‘it’s just so lonely’. His mother, usually a strong, no-nonsense woman had cried too, nodding her head against his shoulder. ‘I know,’ she had murmured, ‘I know’. His brother had asked him if he hated it so much, why did he keep going back? Why did he keep repeating the moves he couldn’t care less about, keep striving to impress the company if he thought it was so toxic? He had thought about it for a long time and then given the most honest answer he could. ‘Because I want this more than I hate the company’ and that was that, and he returned the next day with a brave smile and fell right back into the same routine. I _t’s going to kill me one day_ , he thinks.

 

It’s one of those same days, he’s in the practice room with Kun at eight thirty in the morning, the both of them hot and sweaty, bangs stuck to their foreheads. They’d been given one of the hardest dance routines they’d ever had to memorise and it’d been what felt like weeks since they started practicing it, when it had only been a matter of a couple of days. They’re resting on the floor of the practice room, Jungwoo lazily drawing hearts in the condensation coating the mirrors when there’s a hasty knock at the door. Both of them stand up immediately, fearing their trainers had followed up their threat of surprise examinations. Instead, through the glass Jungwoo can see a boy’s head, messy blonde hair and sticky-out ears. Kun gestures for him to come in. 

“H-hello,” the boy says shakily, and Jungwoo can tell immediately he’s not from Korea, “I’m a new trainee.”  
Realisation slowly dawns upon his head and _oh no,_ Jungwoo thinks, _we have to babysit him_. Once you reach a certain point in trainee life, the company decide that you’re trusted enough and resilient enough to not have a breakdown and leave (he and Kun have talked about how they think the first few months are just a trial, to pick out the strong ones from the weak ones). When you reach this point, they start giving you new trainees to help out, to practically raise into idol-hood. Jungwoo supposes this new boy is theirs. He and Kun glance at each other warily before returning the greeting carefully, bowing their heads and ushering Lucas to enter. 

“I’m sorry,” he says when he closes the door and his accent is so thick it’s a little hard to understand, “My Korean isn’t very good.”

Jungwoo takes a deep breath. Even though he always tries to be nice and good natured and always think the best of people, he can’t help but feel a stab of anger at the company for dumping this clueless new trainee on them when they’ve already given them all this work. Not to sound selfish but Jungwoo just really wants to focus on himself, to make it to debut no matter who it’s with and now he’s going to have this new kid tailing him. 

“Where are you from?” he finds himself asking, fixing his voice in a certain way so none of his frustration will poison it. He feels a little bad, he knows the kids just trying to make it like the rest of them. 

“China,” the boy tells them and Jungwoo watches Kun’s eyes light up. He doesn’t try to follow their conversation after that, instead returning to his phone and turning the song on again, starting to pull together the moves. He can feel the new boy’s eyes on him, curiosity and something else burning at his skin. He tries to ignore it and repeats the dance again. 

 

 

Within three days of meeting, Jungwoo finally learns the boys name. They’d entered the practice room early again, the boy and Kun speaking rapid fire Chinese. Jungwoo couldn’t help but feel a little bitter about being the one left out, Kun was _his_ friend first, this new kid had barely been here a few days and had already pushed him out of his and Kun’s tight little friendship. Kun had been the one to teach him how to be a trainee, to share his own experiences with the group NCT before they made him inactive again and for some reason Jungwoo thought that would be it, that he would get to debut before he had to do what Kun did, before he had to adopt a brand new trainee and raise him to greatness. Maybe it’s just how Kun is, kind and warm hearted, that attracts new people, brings them into his orbit and keeps them there. Jungwoo is a little jealous of how easy it is for him to make casual conversation, to flash that blinding smile and have people under his spell - Jungwoo has to _work_ to make people pay attention to him but people pay attention to Kun anyway. 

 

It’s eight in the morning when the oldest boy leaves to refill their water bottles, leaving him and the new kid alone for what feels like hours. They’re in silence for a minute or so, and Jungwoo considers leaving himself - he’s always been bad at awkward situations and usually just hightails it out of there before he can be roped into doing something even more embarrassing. He decides he won’t leave though, and instead thinks he and the boy won’t have to talk if they’re dancing. He stands up from where he’s lying on the practice room floor and makes his way over to the speakers where Kun’s phone is connected through the aux cord. He’s about to ask the kid if he wants to go again when he feels a presence behind him. He’s standing close, perhaps too close considering they haven’t even spoken more than a few words to each other but Jungwoo finds that he doesn’t even really mind that much. However, he freezes up when he feels the boy behind him and hopes to God he doesn’t notice, unfreezing after a second and turning around to face him. The boys a lot taller now that he and Jungwoo are closer, and Jungwoo wonders for a second whether he’s older than him or just one of those freakishly large kids. He has a baby face, but his height and general size seem to suggest he’s a lot older.  
“How old are you?” Jungwoo blurts out, instantly cursing himself out in his head - he had been hoping to stay away from this kid and avoid him for as long as possible, keep his head down and just get through this training period with as little interactions as he could. Every single trainee tries hard not to get attached to each other, too worried they’re going to wake up the next morning and find their friend gone. It hurts a lot less if you barely know their name. The boy blinks and steps back a little, as if finally realising their strange closeness. 

“Uh,” he says eloquently, and Jungwoo thinks it’s kind of cute the way he looks up when he’s trying to sort out what to say, probably translating. He immediately files that thought away. “I’m nineteen, twenty Korean age.”

Jungwoo makes a surprised noise in his throat, the boy _is_ younger than him. 

“Oh, I’m your hyung,” he remarks. The boy nods a little awkwardly.

“Okay, uh, hyung,” he replies, scratching the back of his neck. 

Jungwoo turns back to the iPod stand, reprimanding himself for even talking to the boy in the first place. 

 

He thought turning away from him would signal that their conversation was over, but he can still feel the boy hovering behind him. He sighs as he fumbles around with Kun’s phone, keying in his password. 

“Jungwoo,” he murmurs softly. He feels the boy step closer again. 

“Huh?”

“It’s Jungwoo,” he repeats, and then at the confused look, “My name.”

The boy’s face lights up in the first genuine smile he’s seen directed his way, all dopey and crinkled eyes and Jungwoo hates the fact that his brain immediately thinks _adorable_. Jungwoo finds his face lifting into a smile of his own, and he can’t find it in himself to dim it. There’s something about this boy that makes Jungwoo want to protect him. He seems innocent, young despite his size and perhaps _untouched,_ too new into the trainee life to be as defeated as the rest of them. It’s a breath of fresh air. 

“I’m Lucas,” the boy finally says, reaching a hand out between them. Jungwoo’s mind stutters a little on the unfamiliar sounding name. He grasps the other boys hand and shakes it. 

“Lucas,” he repeats under his breath. 

 

 

Within two weeks of meeting, they’re friends. Lucas is improving a lot in his Korean, and it’s a hell of a lot easier to talk to him than it was when he first came - the two of them can even have conversations together without Kun serving as a real time translator now. They had finished and performed the dance a week ago, Lucas standing at the side cheering them on. He hadn’t managed to grasp it fully before performance day, which was understandable considering it was an extremely hard dance and he had little to no dancing experience prior to joining up. Jungwoo had caught his eyes during the performance and had thought it endearing to see him attempting to follow the moves amongst the crowd of other trainees. It was still a little awkward at first, and they had trodden around each other in the practice rooms, walking a little on eggshells amongst awkward silences. There had been a strange moment a few days before the performance. They had been touching up the final performance, running Lucas through the logistics and body positions of the moves and Jungwoo just _couldn’t stick_ this one move, no matter how many times he went through it, no matter how many times Kun told him how to do it correctly, his body just wouldn’t allow him to assume the right position. He’s usually good natured with these things, laughing it off and trying again but he’s tried too many times now to not be frustrated, to not be getting a little sloppy. It’s just a spin but it has some complicated flourish at the end that Jungwoo can’t do unless he wants to end up on his ass. He knows he _can_ do it, but it’s just one of those things where you end up getting some sort of psychological block preventing you from doing something you’re perfectly aware you know you can do. Kun calls for them to break, eyeing him worriedly through the glass. 

“Jungwoo,” he begins, reaching a hand out to rest on his arm. Jungwoo let’s his arm drop, effectively dropping Kun’s hand too.

“No!” he exclaims a little too loud, a little too angry. Softer this time, “No, I’m sorry I just really need to do this.”

Kun sighs but leaves him alone anyway, disappearing to sit up against the wall in the corner of the practice room. He expects Lucas to follow him, fold his too big body in half and loll against his hyung like the big puppy he is but instead Lucas keeps his eyes trained on him, the distance between them large enough so that Jungwoo can spin fine without hitting him but too small for Lucas to pretend he isn’t watching. He ignores all of that in favour of setting his gaze on himself in the mirror and readying himself to spin. 

 

His breaths come shallow and quick, sweat coating his forehead. He keeps trying, keeps stumbling and tripping and he’s working himself into a frenzy but he knows if he stops doing it now, stops trying then he’ll just sit on the floor and cry and he’s _not like that,_ he’s never been the kind of person to do that so why does he feel so much like doing it now. Lucas is still standing there, eyes on him this whole time but he hasn’t said a word, hasn’t even opened his mouth. Jungwoo likes that about him. He’s getting worse now, losing energy quick and stumbling every single time he tries to even begin to spin. He’s got his toe pointed outwards, arms out in the correct position but when he goes to spin, he doesn’t make it very far before his ankle turns over him. He feels a stab of uncomfortable pain, hears Kun’s shout of alarm and waits for the hardness of the floor when he hits it. The final thing, however, never comes. Instead, there’s strong arms hooking under his own, dragging him upwards until he’s standing on his feet. The arms, however, don’t leave him and remain hooked underneath his own, settled against his midriff whilst Lucas evens out his breaths behind him. Jungwoo catches how they look in the mirror,and his own unsteady breathing hitches against the closeness, the way Lucas’ strong arms around him make him look tiny, make him feel _safe._

 

He shakes the thoughts away, and attempts to push Lucas’ arms from around him, head back to trying to perfect that move. This only makes Lucas hold on tighter. He struggles a little, 

“Lucas,” he murmurs, “Let me _go_. I need to-”

“ _No_ , hyung, you don’t need to,” he replies, breath fanning out his neck, cool against Jungwoo’s sweaty skin. The older boy soon concludes that trying to escape Lucas is no good and instead falls back limp against him, in a huff. He knows why Lucas is doing it deep down, knows that he’ll be able to do it easily tomorrow, or in a few hours. Kun watches them from the corner, amusement and something else clear in his eyes. 

“Fine,” Jungwoo says stormily, crossing his arms across his chest like a defiant child. He knows he’s being unnecessarily difficult but Lucas doesn’t seem to mind, chuckling behind him before giving him a squeeze. 

“Okay?” he asks teasingly, “If I let you go, you have to promise you don’t just go right back to practicing, okay?”

Jungwoo stays silent, glaring at Lucas through the mirror but Lucas just laughs again, and Jungwoo can feel the rumble of it against his back from where they’re pressed together. When he doesn’t say anything, the younger boy speaks again. 

“I won’t let you go if you don’t promise,” he says, squeezing again for good measure. 

Jungwoo eventually rolls his eyes and lets his head loll back against Lucas’ shoulder in mock exasperation, trying hard to keep the smile off of his face. 

“Promise?” Lucas presses. 

“Promise.” 

Jungwoo tries not to miss the warmth of his arms when Lucas drops them, instead turning to Kun to ask about refilling waterbottles. He grabs both Kun’s and Lucas’ and heads to the door. 

“Lucas,” he calls, turning away from the door, acting as if he hadn’t planned this, as if its spontaneous. The boy in question turns to him from where he’s leaning over his phone, humming in response. 

“Thank you,” Jungwoo says, a little bashfully, “For catching me. I know I was being dumb.”  
Lucas gives him a grin, one which he hesitantly returns. 

“Don’t worry about it,” the other boy says.

 

 

Within one month and three days of meeting, Jungwoo sees Lucas break down for the first time. It’s late, late enough for most of the lights in the SM building to be off (which is saying something). The first meeting awkwardness has completely dissipated by now and they get on a lot better than Jungwoo had immediately thought they would. Sometimes he thinks about how Lucas still isn’t out of the danger zone, how he’s allowed himself to become friends with, become emotionally _attached_ to a trainee that hasn’t proven that he’s resilient to stay yet. He thinks even from the beginning, he may have been setting himself up to get hurt. He and Lucas are alone this time, Kun off getting street food with Sicheng on one of his very rare days off. They’re in one of the vocal practice rooms this time, not the dance studios and they’re sitting together in front of a computer screen, shoulders touching as the both of them scratch and scratch out lyrics against a single page of notebook paper. They’ve got other music playing quietly in the background, soft guitar chords floating out of the speakers. It’s one of those moments where time stops and it feels as if they’re the only two people in the world. It’s one of those moments where you feel like you should whisper even though you’re alone. They stop talking for a minute, both of them writing down a few words. The song playing is a little sad, a soft voice singing about being far from home, far from family. Songs like this make Jungwoo feel a little less alone, fill the hollowness in his stomach with the feeling that _someone understands._ It seems both him and Lucas have stopped writing in favour of listening, in favour of letting themselves go home, if only in their heads. It takes Jungwoo a minute to register that the back of his hand is wet and when he does, it takes him longer to realise that it’s _Lucas_. He’s never seen him cry before and he doesn’t quite know what to do. Some people want to be left alone, like Kun, but other people want comfort, like Mark but Lucas - he’s a wild card.

 

He reaches a hand out tentatively, laying it against the bare skin of Lucas’ arm. He’s staring at his feet, eyes wide and unblinking. 

“Lucas,” Jungwoo murmurs. He pauses for a second, planning out his words, “Do you want to be alone?”  
Lucas shakes his head violently, reaching one of his own hands up to press Jungwoo’s hand harder against his arm, as if he’s trying to stick them together. 

“Okay,” Jungwoo says softly, slowly peeling his hand away from Lucas’ arm, allowing Lucas to curl their fingers together instead. The younger boy holds onto him tightly, closely like he’ll leave him if he doesn’t, 

“I’m here,” he says, “don’t worry.”

He let’s Lucas cry, wraps his free hand around his shoulders and let’s him lean into him, shoulders shaking like the waves of the world finally swept over him and dragged him under. 

“I’m so lonely,” he murmurs eventually, when the song has long finished and a new one has started, “I just want to go home.”  
It’s moments like these that Jungwoo realises just how young Lucas is, he’s still a child and he’s playing an adult’s game, one that even Jungwoo struggles to keep up with a lot of the time. 

“I know,” he murmurs, leaning his chin on the crown of Lucas’ head. The other boy’s shoulders have stopped shaking now, but the grip on his hand is still as tight as it was before, “Have you called your parents?”

Lucas sighs and reaches his free hand up to wipe roughly at his eyes. 

“Yeah,” he sighs out, “I just don’t want to worry them.”

Jungwoo hums in understanding. It must be hard for Lucas especially, being so far away from home, out of the country. Jungwoo can get home whenever if he really wants to whereas Lucas is stuck in a country that isn’t his own. He thinks back on all the times he stifled heartbreak and suffering between the soft skin of his lips and the hard bone of his knuckles at three in the morning, lungs shaking with the effort to hold in the pain. They all go through it, but _this_ is what your dreams feels like outside of your head, a physical thing painted on your hands blood red - like thrashing around in bonds you know won’t loosen (perhaps until you find someone to loosen them for you). His parents would be upset to know that instead of confiding his troubles in _them_ , Jungwoo twirls them into dance moves or sings them into notes or cries them into his pillow when it’s too dark to see his cheeks burn with shame but this is who they _are_ , this is who they have to be. 

 

He tells Lucas this in as few words as he can, trying to stop his voice from shaking and explaining that every trainee feels this way, and that they can be lonely together. 

“How does that work?” Lucas asks him, sniffling and sitting up a little (they won’t talk about this after tonight).

“How does what work?” They’re still holding hands. 

“How can we be lonely together?”

Jungwoo shrugs and picks his pen up with his free hand (luckily the one he writes with) and shrugs again like the words he’s about to speak don’t hurt. 

“Well, we’ve managed so far.”

 

(Later, when Lucas has recovered and they’re back to writing and talking quietly, Lucas glances at him and then at their hands and then away again. Neither of them have mentioned the hand thing, how neither of them want to let go. He keeps repeating the same action and Jungwoo’s about to ask him what’s wrong when he finally decides to speak. 

“Hyung,” he begins. Jungwoo doesn’t have to say anything, just stops writing to let Lucas know he’s listening, “Hyung, I feel like I’ll go crazy if I don’t hear this.”

Jungwoo looks up from the notebook in confusion. 

“Hear what?” he asks, baffled. Lucas himself looks a little fidgety. 

“My Chinese name, no ones called me it for a really long time and I-” he takes a deep breath as if trying to compress his emotions, prevent them from bubbling up to the surface. Jungwoo squeezes his hand. 

“Of course,” he murmurs, “What is it?”

“Yukhei,” he whispers, voice low and soft as velvet. Jungwoo thinks he likes it better than the clunky, unfamiliar syllables of ‘Lucas’. 

“Yukhei,” Jungwoo mirrors him, the word tumbling off of his lips like it was made to be in his mouth, under his tongue. Lucas turns to face him, watches his mouth form the word. He says it again, under his breath and then again to get the syllables correct and then again just because he likes the way Lucas blushes under the yellow light of the practice room, likes the way he watches his mouth with peaked interest. He swipes a thumb across the back of Lucas’ hand and doesn’t think about how they’ve just written fragments of a love song with their hands intertwined under the desk.)

 

 

Within two months and twenty days of them meeting, in late November,Jungwoo invites Lucas back to his house for the weekend. He’s decided that Lucas is out of the danger zone now, has enough work ethic and drive to make it with the rest of them even though there’s been more breakdowns, more late night chats, more times where he’s had to murmur ‘Yukhei’ to bring the younger boy back where he’s supposed to be. He doesn’t mind it much anyway, is just happy that Lucas is likely to end up making it with him, that they’re both likely to make it _together_. The company like him a lot and he, Kun and Jungwoo are quite a notorious three around SM now, are viewed as some of the top skilled trainees. Jungwoo supposes the company gave them their weekend off as a sort of reward (or an incentive) for working so hard. Kun announces that he’s going to bunk in the NCT dorm to catch up with his friends (the older boy is already a part of SMROOKIES and is basically guaranteed to debut with NCT at some point), Jungwoo already knows he’s going to go home but waits with bated breath for Lucas to announce what he’s going to do before he himself tells the other two. The other boy’s shoulders rise up and Jungwoo can tell he’s homesick just from the way he can’t make eye contact with Kun when he murmurs something to him in Chinese. 

“I’ll probably just stay in the dorm,” he says quietly, “You know, rest.”

There’s a pause and Jungwoo and Kun make eye contact above Lucas’ head. Jungwoo reaches over to place a hand on Lucas’ arm. 

 

“Wanna come home with me?” he asks, as casual as he can be with the way he can feel his pulse in his fingers. 

Lucas’ eyes widen. 

“You mean…to your house?” he asks and both Jungwoo and Kun laugh. Jungwoo makes a ring around Lucas’ arm with his thumb and forefinger, squeezing gently to let him know _it’s okay_. 

“Yes, dummy, to my house.”

“But…you haven’t seen your family in ages, don’t you want to see them on your own?” Lucas asks timidly, but Jungwoo can see the spark in Lucas’ eyes. He wants to come, he’s just making reasons for why he shouldn’t. 

“I can still see them if you’re there, right?” he reasons, “And my mother could use another mouth to feed. She used to make really amazing chinese food before my brother and I left and I know it probably won’t be as good as the food at your home but I figured maybe it’d help you feel a little less homesick?” He kind of rambled, speeding and slurring his speech up at the end. Lucas hates when he does that because it makes it really hard for him to understand but by the huge smile on his face, he seemed to have understood that pretty well. Jungwoo doesn’t know why he’s so nervous - maybe it’s because his mother has only ever really met Kun as one of his friends from the company and _everyone_ likes Kun. He knows his mother will like Lucas just the same and try to smother and look after him whatever he’s like but it doesn’t stop the idea of Lucas meeting his parents striking a mixture of excitement and anxiety down his spine. The younger boy smiles, bright and open and _happy_ and Jungwoo can’t think of a single word good enough to describe that sight. He decides now, with Lucas smiling at him, that he is his best friend and he would do anything to make him happy. 

 

Lucas is obviously nervous, jogging his knee up and down in the passenger seat whilst Jungwoo drives. He’s too big for this car, it seems, his hair almost scraping the ceiling. 

“You alright?” Jungwoo asks, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye before glancing back at the road in time to indicate right. He hears Lucas take a deep breath. 

“Hyung,” he says, “Why am I so nervous?”

Jungwoo laughs. 

“I don’t know, why _are_ you so nervous?”

“I think it’s just because I’ve never really met Korean parents before?” Lucas says, “Like do I bow? What do I call them? Do I shake your father’s hand or bow to him or both?”

Jungwoo reaches a hand over the centre console to pat Lucas’ leg. 

“Stop worrying,” he says, finding it cute how nervous Lucas is, “My mother will hug you and it’s likely my dad will too, if not he’ll shake your hand. Bow when you come in if you want but there’s no need to again until we leave. I promise it’s gonna be fine.”

Lucas takes another breath and nods again. Silence. 

“But it’s _your_ parents,” he says after a minute, a little quieter, voice a little deeper as if that changes something. So _this_ is what Lucas has been worrying about - but why?Jungwoo’s heart stutters in his chest regardless. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

They glance at each other and Lucas’ eyes are lit by the afternoon sun.

“Nothing,” he says quietly and then again, as if to reassure himself as well as Jungwoo, “Nothing.”

 

They reach Jungwoo’s house about twenty minutes later, and Lucas’ hands are shaking when he grabs their bags from the trunk. 

“You’re being dumb,” Jungwoo tells him, locking the car behind him and leading Lucas up the drive. He can feel Lucas clinging to the back of his shirt like a lost child. He resists the urge to coo.  
“Shut up,” Lucas tells him as he unlocks the door but it’s weak and Jungwoo doesn’t have to turn around to know that he’s blushing. As soon as he swings the door open, Jungwoo’s mother comes bounding down the hallway to greet them. 

“My son!” she exclaims and Jungwoo can’t help his affectionate smile or the way he practically smothers her in his arm, giving her one of the tightest hugs he might have ever given her. 

“I missed you,” he murmurs into her soft shirt, and her familiar smell overwhelms him, makes him nostalgic for his childhood when things were a lot more simple, a lot easier. When they break apart, Jungwoo stands aside to let Lucas out of the doorway and watches as the younger boy closes the door behind him, toeing off his shoes politely. 

“Mom,” Jungwoo begins, and Lucas turns towards the both of them, a hesitant smile on his face. Jungwoo smiles back encouragingly, “This is Lucas, my friend from the company.”

Lucas bends forward in an almost ninety degree bow as Jungwoo takes the bags off him and the older can’t help but laugh a little at the sight of all one hundred and eighty something centimetres of Lucas bent in half. His mother laughs and places a hand on his shoulder to make him straighten up before pulling him into one of those motherly hugs. No matter how big you are, those kinds of hugs will always make you feel warm and protected. Jungwoo appreciates how long it must have been since Lucas received one of those hugs, and he and the other boy make eye contact over his mother’s shoulder and if there has ever been a time Jungwoo has felt more contempt, he can’t remember. 

 

His father comes home later and shakes Lucas’ hand whilst the other boy bows and then claps him on the back. They sit down at the dinner table and eat his mother’s Chinese food and Lucas keeps exclaiming how amazing it is, how authentic it tastes until Jungwoo has to shove a spoonful of rice into his mouth to make him shut up, laughing the whole time. There’s something awfully comforting about a home cooked meal, especially when you’ve been living on instant noodles at four in the morning for the past year of your life. Lucas seems to think so too because he smiles contentedly between mouthfuls and joins in on conversation when he can understand it enough to do so. Jungwoo can tell his parents like him and the relief (even though he knew they would) he feels is so huge he can’t explain it. He doesn’t have to, though, because he’s dragging Lucas up to his bedroom and they’re dumping their bags onto the wood of Jungwoo’s bedroom floor and dragging out his old games console. They spend the rest of the night playing video games and eating seafood crackers and laughing too loud and it’s _nice_ , Jungwoo can’t remember the last time he was this happy. They’re in the middle of a game of Outlast and Lucas, who is notoriously bad at this game, is out for the count and leaning back against the headboard of Jungwoo’s bed. 

“Thank you,” Lucas suddenly says. The suddenness of the statement makes Jungwoo falter and he dies too, leaning back against the headboard as well whilst the menu pops up. The blue of the screen washes Lucas’ skin out, turns him into porcelain and, for some reason, Jungwoo is having trouble looking away. 

“For what?” It’s another one of those moments where they keep their voices low even though they’re the only ones in the room. It makes it more strangely intimate. Lucas makes a sweeping gesture with his hands. 

“All - all this. Inviting me here. I know I was kind of pitiful moping around the dorm.”

Jungwoo softens immediately, absentmindedly playing with the buttons on his control. Lucas hasn’t looked at him this whole time. 

“Yukhei,” Jungwoo says, a little lower than his voice usually would be so as not to shatter the moment,and it’s a little self indulgent because he’ll never get over the way Lucas’ cheeks turn the colour of candyfloss, gentle and fragile and the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He’s looking at him now, the television screen making his eyes glassy and shiny and there’s an inexplicable need tugging at Jungwoo’s mind to work out if his lips taste how they look. He doesn’t.

“I didn’t invite you here because you look pitiful. I invited you here because I want you to be here.”

Lucas smiles, as soft and kind as a swan breaking water and he is his best friend. _He’d do anything to make him happy._

 

 

Within four months and three days of meeting each other, Jungwoo falls ill. It’s not unexpected, he’s lacking rest and proper nutrition and being in a sweaty practice room practically twenty-four seven isn’t exactly the most healthiest way to be living. He has a fever running dangerously high and everything is feverish and blurred, diving in and out of consciousness. He can’t even force himself to get out of bed to tell someone, and he most definitely can’t squint at his phone screen so he just lies there, deciding he’ll wait until someone comes to find him. It’s one of those illnesses when he can’t tell if anything’s real or not. Of course, it’s Lucas who comes to find him first, expecting him up and ready by the time he walks in. He gasps when he lays his eyes on Jungwoo. 

“Hyung...” he murmurs, eyes darting over his pitiful state. Jungwoo tries to wave his concern off because he doesn’t trust his voice to work but even his arms are weak and floppy and he can’t hold one up long enough to perform a wave. At seeing that, Lucas steps in and closes the door behind him, walking further into the room.

“Don’t,” Jungwoo warns and he winces at the crack in his voice, deep and jarring, “You’ll get sick.”  
Lucas just looks at him incredulously, as if to say _hyung, do you think I care?_ It has Jungwoo inexplicably burning even hotter than he had been beforehand. He doesn’t even want to think about that right now. 

 

Lucas moves to crack open a window, letting the old stuffy air out and new, fresher air in before approaching Jungwoo, albeit a little cautiously. He kneels by his bed next to him and reaches out to place a hand against his forehead. The coolness of his hands against the heat of Jungwoo’s body is practically heaven and he makes a high sound in the back of his throat, scrambling to cover the hand with his own to keep it there. 

“S’cold,” Jungwoo murmurs in explanation when Lucas looks at him questioningly, before pushing himself further into the other’s hand. He’s practically on the edge of the bed now with how much he’s leaning against Lucas’ hand, only so many inches away and Lucas has to bring his spare hand up to rest against the curve of his waist to push him back in case he falls. He’s aware he’s being a little needy, trapping Lucas like this but he’s sick and they’ve known each other long enough now to tolerate stuff like this with each other. He opens his eyes a fraction from where they’re closed in bliss to see Lucas’ eyes trained on his face, focused somewhere a little lower than his eyes and maybe if he was in the right state of mind, Jungwoo would have noticed the tinge of something else leaking in at the edges, some unnamed sort of affection that he doesn’t really recognise. Lucas chuckles, low and warm sounding and Jungwoo, in his frazzled state, realises that he really kind of likes Lucas’ laugh, it’s kind of like honey, sweet and addictive and sugary. He wouldn’t mind hearing it again. 

“I like it,” he mumbles out, head spinning as he opens his eyes just a crack to see Lucas’ eyes trained on his own now, questioning. Jungwoo has him in a little bit of an awkward position, up on his knees by the side of his bed, one hand outstretched awkwardly to where Jungwoo’s pressing it against his forehead and the other pressing against his hip. Jungwoo pushes the blanket off of him and presses Lucas’ hand against the bare skin of his hip now instead, too focused on the refreshing coolness of it to realise that he’s done something _extremely_ questionable and Lucas makes a choked off noise, eyeing the contrast between the pale skin of Jungwoo’s waist and the tanner tone of Lucas’ hand. He seems to take a minute to recover. 

“You like what?” he asks him, obviously attempting to remove his eyes from his hand and Jungwoo’s exposed waist. 

“Your...” there’s a pause where he has to swallow, “Laugh. I like your laugh.” 

There’s silence, and it lasts so long that Jungwoo flicks his eyes open to see Lucas’ reaction. He’s smiling softly and even sick Jungwoo can see the affection this time, the gooey ness in his eyes. 

“Oh really?” he replies teasingly, shaking his head as if to dismiss it. He laughs again, and this time Jungwoo likes it even more now it’s a little more boisterous, louder and more free. Jungwoo finds himself smiling despite his state. 

“I mean it,” he says sluggishly, pushing his fingers in between Lucas’ own on his forehead so they’re kind of holding hands. Lucas just shakes his head again. 

 

They sit like that for a while, Lucas practically stuck in that same position whilst Jungwoo moves sluggishly in and out of conscious. Lucas leaves for a minute, and Jungwoo whines pathetically until he announces he’s only going to get some aspirin and flu medicine and returns promptly with the pills and a glass of water. Lucas cradles Jungwoo’s head as he gulps down the pills and then begins shucking his hoodie off, revealing a muscle tank underneath. 

“W-what are you doing?” Jungwoo asks him, yawning halfway through. Lucas doesn’t answer, only puts one knee up on the bed and asks Jungwoo to ‘shove over’. He does as he’s told and the next thing he knows, Lucas is sliding into bed next to him and allowing Jungwoo to place his hands where he wants them, one on his upper arm and the other one back on his waist. He lets Jungwoo curl into him and rest his head on his chest, tuck his fluffy hair under his chin. 

“You’re the best,” Jungwoo murmurs after a few beats of silence. Lucas chuckles, and Jungwoo likes it _even more_ when he can feel the rumble of his laughter through his chest against his ear. He covers one of Lucas’ hands with his own, tangling their fingers together lazily. 

“I know,” Lucas murmurs, squeezing at Jungwoo’s arm under the covers. He, too, eventually succumbs to the world of sleep. 

 

When Jungwoo wakes up, he’s feeling marginally better and Lucas is gone. For one panicked minute, he’s worried that his touchiness when he’s sick has scared Lucas off and he’s just disappeared but then he spots a little green post-it-note stuck to the nightstand. It says:

_hey,_

_hope you feel better! :)_

_I had to leave for rap lessons but Jisung is here to take care of you until I get back._

_Rest well!_

 

At the bottom, there’s some chinese characters scratched in biro. Jungwoo assumes that they read ‘Yukhei’ and smiles a little at the thought and the memory of the first time Lucas had asked him to call him that. As if on cue, there’s a knock on the door. He croaks a throaty ‘come in’ and offers Jisung a weak smile when he sees who it is. The younger boy is clutching a bottle of water and what looks like more of the pills Lucas gave him earlier. 

“Hey hyung,” Jisung says casually and Jungwoo props himself up on his elbows as he moves to take the items off of Jisung, thanking him quietly. 

“Hey, Jisung-ie, you’re not at practice?” 

The younger boy shakes his head, moving to sit at the side of Jungwoo’s bed. There’s silence for a minute as Jungwoo gulps down the two pills he was given. Jisung breathes in as if he’s going to say something, then stops. The does it again. Then stops. 

“Do you want to say something, Jisung-ie?” Jungwoo asks finally, offering the boy a lazy smile. He looks like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“No,” he begins, dragging the ‘O’ a little, “It’s just that…I saw you and Lucas-hyung earlier.”

Jungwoo’s gentle smile turns to a bit of a confused one. 

“Saw what?” he asks. 

“You guys, you know, in bed together,” Jisung is blushing a little now, and Jungwoo resists the urge to pinch his cheeks despite the situation. 

“Oh, that,” he replies, “It’s nothing, I was really hot so I wanted to lay against something cool.”

Jisung nods as if he understands and believes him but there’s something in his eyes that makes Jungwoo think he doesn’t. _Whatever_ , he thinks, as he tips his head back to lay against the pillow. Just before he’s about to drop off to sleep he hears Jisung make a tutting noise. 

“Sometimes I think you’re really dumb, hyung,” he says. Jungwoo isn’t conscious enough to scold him for the slander, only conscious enough to slur a questioning ‘why’. 

Jisung takes a while to respond. 

“You and Lucas-hyung, you’re…different, somehow. I know you probably don’t see the way he looks at you but _we_ all do,” he pauses, “He looks at you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. I swear he could watch you forever.” Another pause. “ _More_ than forever. _Forever isn’t long enough_.”

 

When he wakes up, Jungwoo rules it out as some crazy ass dream. 

 

 

Within five months and twenty six days, Lucas and Jungwoo have their first fight. It starts over nothing, really. They had been added to the official lineup of SMROOKIES a couple of weeks ago. Jungwoo had cried and Lucas had held him and _then_ cried and it had been one of the most wonderful feelings in the world - the ache and pain of the work finally paying off and he’d murmured the words he’d had tucked away in the back of his throat since he’d first joined SM into the soft fabric of Lucas’ shirt. 

“We made it.”

But now, the heat was on and training was getting harder and breaks were getting shorter and they had had to deal with meeting and getting to know sixteen new boys enough to act like they’d all been friends for life and loved each other like brothers when actually Jungwoo couldn’t remember which one was Jaemin and which one was Jeno all at the same time and it was safe to say they were _all_ a little stressed, Jungwoo and Lucas especially. They were in the practice room, the same one they’d been in when they first met and it’s a strange sense of deja vu except now it’s _Lucas_ that can’t stick the move and Jungwoo that’s hovering behind him protectively. He’s never really seen Lucas all that frustrated - not in an angry way, anyway. He’s cried from frustration, dumped his head in Jungwoo’s lap and made him stroke his hair until he fell asleep from frustration but Jungwoo’s never seen him lash out before. Apart from now. He keeps trying this one move, and it’s getting messier and messier the more he does it and Jungwoo knows this feeling all too well, knows this _hopelessness._

“Lucas,” Jungwoo begins carefully, his voice low and gentle the way he knows makes Lucas’ eyes soft but it doesn’t have the desired effect this time and Lucas just holds up a hand to make him stop talking. 

“Hyung,” he says roughly, “Will you just let me do this?”

“It won’t do you any good-” he replies but he’s cut off when Lucas turns around, anger clear on his face. 

“I know!” he shouts, “I’m no good, Jungwoo, I know!”

Jungwoo flinches and steps back, not from fear but from surprise. He hadn’t thought that gentle, cute Lucas could be like this. 

“What?” Jungwoo asks, genuinely surprised. 

“You heard me,” Lucas says, chin tipped up and arms crossed in defiance. This is the part where Jungwoo realises just how big, just how strong Lucas is. 

“I never said that,” Jungwoo splutters, “That’s not what i said.”

“But it’s what you meant, isn’t it?” Lucas is obviously getting angry now, getting a step closer and closer to Jungwoo with each word. He isn’t scared, he knows Lucas would never hurt him, he’s just confused and a little hurt. 

“W-what?” he stutters, “Lucas!”  
“God, stop, I know I’m the worst. I know I don’t deserve to be here, god, no matter how hard I try I’ll never be good enough and I _know_ that, Jungwoo!”  
“Lucas,” he starts and he’s more than a little upset now, “What are you saying?”  
The logical side of him knows that Lucas is just using this little outburst, this minor inconvenience to get all of his insecurities and thoughts out in the open but it _hurts_ Jungwoo to know that Lucas thinks this about himself, that he thinks he’s not good enough to be here when he’s the best, when he deserves _everything._

“I’m just so _shit_ , Jungwoo! I can’t speak Korean and I can’t dance and I can’t sing and I can barely rap and you’re just perfect! You just do everything and make it look natural and you never have to work for it and-”

Anger flares, unexpectedly in his stomach and he pushes himself up off the wall and right up into Lucas’ space. 

“How _dare_ you,” he practically hisses, “How _dare_ you even suggest that I don’t have to work for this! I’ve trained longer than you, I’ve done more work than you have! I’ve lost everything! We’ve all lost everything for this, Lucas and you - you have the fucking _cheek_ to say something like that!”  
He’s crying now, ugly tears of anger trailing hot tracks down his cheek and his hands are in his hair, tugging in anguish and Lucas is breathing hard in front of him. 

“I’ll never be good enough, Jungwoo just fucking say it! I want to hear it! I want to hear it from _you._ ”

Jungwoo stays silent, at a complete loss for what he needs to say, for what’s happened. He and Lucas have never fought before, and nothing he’s said to him has _ever_ prompted him to do this, to bring these kinds of things up. He opens and closes his mouth in shock, tears still streaming down his cheeks. Lucas’ voice is calmer now, even though his chest is still heaving. He steps forward and forward until Jungwoo is crowded into the wall. He leans in, right until their faces are inches apart. 

“Just say it,” he spits, “Just say that I’m not good enough for you.”

 

Jungwoo stops dead, it seems like everything freezes between them. He can feel Lucas’ breath against his neck, lifting goosebumps involuntarily but he can’t think about that now because _what did he just say_? It feels like even the air is trembling around that statement, as if the words that tumbled from Lucas’ mouth caused the whole earth to shake and Lucas’ eyes are widening as if he just realised what he said and he’s leaning away like he’s been burnt. Jungwoo is reeling, a fish caught up in a net there’s no way of escaping from and he’s running out of air quick. _What does that mean?_ He keeps asking himself, even though he thinks he knows. This is not the Lucas he knows, not the soft, kind, buttercream Lucas who reminds him of August and sticky ice cream this is February Lucas, stormy and fiery and icy and he’s so _confused_ and _upset_ that all he can do is heave out a sob. It’s as if the protective wall of their friendship they’d both helped construct around something else, something much more pure, much more precious has crumbled, exposing its foundations and therefore exposing them, the true nature of the two of them. Jungwoo is reminded of the butterfly effect, the idea that even the gentle flap of a butterfly's wings could cause something as large and devastating as an earthquake. His knees go weak underneath him and he finds himself sliding down the wall, dragging his hands roughly over his face. Lucas stands back and his hands are shaking but its for a different reason. He slowly kneels down in front of Jungwoo, whose face is still in his hands. 

 

“I care about you so much, you know that?” Jungwoo says without lifting his head, voice low and grainy. Lucas makes a strange noise in the back of his throat, like an animal in pain. Jungwoo wants to reach out and touch him, but he doesn’t know how he’d survive if he flinched away from him.

“You _are_ good enough to be here,” he continues, lifting his head from his hands. He tries to make Lucas meet his eyes but he won’t, refuses, “You - _we’ve_ worked so hard to get here and it’s finally paying off.”Jungwoo’s still crying and he notices through blurry eyes that Lucas has begun now, as well, tears falling against his knees. It still breaks Jungwoo’s heart to see him cry. 

“Yukhei,” Jungwoo murmurs, rawer and more emotional than he’s ever heard himself say it, he repeats it again now, like a prayer, like a gospel until Lucas looks up at him again, cheeks flushed and open, cherry red and sweet, “You _are_ good enough,” he says and he hopes he understands that Jungwoo means _for everything_ , in every universe, “You deserve so much more than this world can give you.”

Lucas is silent for a long time, for what feels like hours as they stare at each other, Lucas’ knees pressed to Jungwoo’s feet. 

“How can you say that?” Lucas asks, looking so much like a kicked puppy that Jungwoo would want to reach out and pet his head if it was an appropriate situation to, “How can you say that after what I just did? Aren’t you scared of me?”  
Jungwoo reaches forward, suddenly frantic, and presses his own hand to Lucas’ cheek, forcing him to look at him again.  
“I’m not scared of you,” he whispers,“I’ll never be scared of you.”

Lucas’ hand comes up to wrap loosely around Jungwoo’s wrist and he turns his face into his palm, eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. Watching the action strikes electricity through his veins. 

“I’m sorry,” Lucas murmurs into the rougher skin of his hand, “I’m just so _scared_. I want this so badly.”  
Jungwoo doesn’t know what he’s referring to, whether it’s debut or _something else_ but Jungwoo can agree with both. He drags himself forward until he’s practically in Lucas’ lap and he can pull the younger boys head down to rest against his shoulder. He wraps his hands around his back, presses at his shoulder blades like he’s going to sprout wings (he wouldn’t be surprised).

He presses his lips into Lucas’ shoulder and murmurs those words he’s been hesitant to say ever since the beginning. 

“We’re going to make it,” he says and Lucas’ shoulders shake in fear and pain and misery. His heart shakes for a different reason.“We’re going to make it together.”  
They are like two sailors in the aftermath of a shipwreck, beaten and battered but clinging to each other none the less as if to say _this is what I have left, and this is what I will protect._

 

 

Within half a year from meeting, Lucas and Jungwoo decide enough is enough. There’s a lot more illness, a lot more blood, sweat and tears and of course, a little more of his mother’s chinese food but they debut and they make it and it’s fucking _fantastic_. Both Lucas and Jungwoo have listened to ‘Boss’ so much they absolutely despise it but Mark says that’s just part of the process. “Once you hate the song,” he had said, “Is when you know you’ve done enough.” Still, though, this doesn’t stop Jungwoo from feeling horrible and sick and jittery back stage when they’re about to do their first live performance for Boss. They’d debuted a couple of days ago and he wasn’t _nearly_ as nervous then, maybe just because he had space to mess up then and no one would know but now he definitely doesn’t have space to mess up in front of more than a thousand screaming fans and _wow, he can’t breathe._ He’s waited for this for years, dreamt about this, cried about this, sacrificed practically everything over this and yet now he wants nothing less than to get on stage. _What’s wrong with him?_ He can hear the fans screaming and their chants seem to go in the same rhythm as his heart does - fast and reckless and what if the company were wrong, what if he’s not ready for this? Doyoung has a hand on his shoulder but he can’t feel him, can’t hear the soothing words he’s trying to feed him. He feels tears well up in his eyes and he’s so _weak,_ he can’t even do this without crying. Why is it that the supposedly happiest, most exciting moment of his life is just frightening and sickening instead? He’s about to try and escape Doyoung’s motherly hold and steer himself into an empty room so he can ready himself for what he has to force himself to do when he feels a familiar hand on his wrist. 

 

When he looks up, Lucas is standing in front of him, as soft and kind and reliable as ever and some of his anxiety immediately melts away. He just suddenly feels exhausted, tired in the way that it’s bone deep and burrowing and he wants to just lean his forehead against Lucas’ chest and let the tiredness take him somewhere he doesn’t have to worry. He could do that, but somewhere deep inside of him, his mind is telling him _you are not a coward._ He feels Doyoung’s hand slip from his shoulder and him and Lucas are alone again in the darkness of backstage. The sound of the crowd dims a little when he focuses on how these weird strobe lights make Lucas’ eyes look greener than they are, hollow his cheekbones to make him look even more handsome that he usually is. He darts a tongue out to lick his lips. 

“You okay?” Lucas asks him voice raised to battle the volume of the rest of the world around them and the sounds he had managed to block out come rushing back along with his anxiety. 

“I can’t do this,” Jungwoo forces out, breathing quickly becoming hitched and uneven. Tears are welling quick and fast again and one slips down his cheek through his freshly done makeup. _Damn it_. Lucas cups his cheek and thumbs away at the tear on his cheek, placing the other hand on his shoulder, grounding, an anchor. 

“Breathe,” Lucas tells him, and then uses a finger to tilt his head up, forcing their eyes to clash in the middle of all this chaos. Lucas finds his breath stolen instead and a thousand things flash through his mind. This boy in front of him is insanely beautiful, this boy lay with him when he was sick and got sick himself, this boy cried when he thought of home, hugged his mother like she was his own, held his hand whilst they wrote a love song, clung to him like he was the only thing left afloat. It took him three days to learn this boys name, and eleven more to befriend him. He is his best friend and he’d do _anything_ to make sure he’s happy. _Just say that I’m not good enough for you._

_“_ We’re gonna make it together,” Lucas tells him and the words break a dam in him, tear him apart and piece him carefully back together again but in a different way, in a way that makes him _see it_.

 

 

“Lucas,” he practically gasps out, hands grasping at the lapels of the younger costume, “ _Yukhei_.It’s taken me a long time but I-”

“Standby, positions please,” a tinny voice sounds from his in-ear and Jungwoo wants to smash his head against the wall. Lucas looks at him apologetically, leaning forward so far Jungwoo can feel Lucas’ lips moving against the shell of his ear.

“Tell me after, yeah?” he says and before he pulls away, Jungwoo can feel a press of lips against his cheek, chaste, barely there but a kiss all the same. He’s extremely pink and too dazed to be nervous when he gets on stage, simply taking his position in a strange sort of trance. When he hears the opening beats, however, he can feel himself snap out of _that_ trance and snap into another one instead, one where he hits every move on every beat, sings his heart out and finally, he realises what’s so addictive about performing, about the stage and the flashing lights and the screaming of the crowd. He doesn’t have the headspace to think about Lucas, or his family, his brother off in university somewhere. He always thought that whilst he was performing his debut song for the first time live he would have some strange sort of epiphany, would head off the stage like some strange divine being, enlightened to life and what happens after. That isn’t what happens though. Jungwoo doesn’t think, _can’t_ think about anything else except the next line, where the cameras are and where to put his feet. It’s only when the song finishes that it hits him. He just _debuted_ , he - _they_ \- fucking made it. His hands are shaking as they bow goodbye and file off of stage and what he’s about to burst out with isn’t even an epiphany, isn’t even anything new, it’s as old and as repetitive as the tide drawing in and out.

 

Once they’re safely out of view of any prying eyes, Jungwoo grabs Lucas by the wrist and drags him into one of the empty dressing rooms. He shuts the door behind him and turns around again. Lucas looks _attractive_ , like he always does all dressed up like that but there’s something about him now that’s magnetic, completely and irrevocably drawing Jungwoo closer until he can’t resist to press them both completely together, to eliminate any of the space between them. Lucas’ hands rest on his waist automatically and his eyes are as soft and as open as summer rain as he looks down on him and Jungwoo loves him so much his old, withered heart can’t take it. He slides his hands up to rest at the nape of Lucas’ neck. 

“Lucas,” he says. His whole body is trembling, “Yukhei. I love you.”

He hears Lucas’ breath catch and watches his mouth open to speak but he has so much more to say. 

“I’ve loved you for - for God knows how long but I was scared to admit it because _god,_ this is a cruel world we live in, right? But we made it? And I really really love you and I have so much more to say but all I really want to say now is that you’re good enough, Yukhei, you’re _too_ good for me and I really fucking - I’m really in love with you.”

He finishes his little speech and he feels like his knees are going to give out from under him, the only thing really stopping him from turning into a pile of goo on the floor is Lucas’ hand grasping at the leather belt of his outfit. Lucas’ eyes run over his whole body, heated and stripping him completely, as if he can see right through him but chooses not to. His heart falters and Jungwoo is punch drunk on Lucas’ face and his eyes and his smell and the way that he holds him - carefully, tenderly, but not like he’ll break. He could spit a whole love song out of the way he looks at him now, and Jisung was right _forever really isn’t long enough._

“Jungwoo, I've loved you since the second I first saw you dance and every single second after that.”

 

It feels like it takes forever for their lips to finally touch after that. It’s tender at first, just a quiet press of lips but Jungwoo is completely and utterly desperate, quaking in Lucas’ arms and suddenly they’re both moving their lips with a fervour that can only be described as men starving, the heat of Lucas’ tongue turning his soul inside out. They have to pull away to breathe, and when they do Lucas presses their foreheads together and it is the most natural thing in the world, Jungwoo chases his lips but Lucas drags them away teasingly at the last second. Lucas smiles and he is suddenly every single colour Jungwoo can’t name - the darkish shade in between red and purple, the colour a bruise turns when you push at the edges, the blush between pink and white in a winter sunset and the mere thought of that smile and those eyes _aches_ in the space between his ribcage and his heart, the space that the trainee life hollowed out. He is beautiful beyond joy, beyond famine and injustice, beautiful beyond hope and despair and all human feelings. Jungwoo had met Lucas at the end of a hot summer, kissed him in the lazy dew of spring and loved him ever since.

 

**Author's Note:**

> oh man oh man oh man - my second fic of the week damn. i wrote this all in one day, so i honestly don't hate it that much yet and it's definitely not my worst fic. woocas are a really new ship and there isn't a lot of fics on them yet but i feel like they have the capacity to be a really really cute ship and decided to jump on the bandwagon before there's even a bandwagon. i tried kind of a different set out style with this with the whole 'within so-and-so days' thing so uhh hope that was fine for you!! pls support woocas lads i can tell they're going to be legendary!! thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoy!
> 
> you know the drill, if you have questions, complaints or just want a chat, please feel free to hit me up on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/jinhw101)


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